


The Endless Mirror

by The_Rifleman



Category: DCU (Comics), Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling, The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Mirror of Erised
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-08
Updated: 2016-08-08
Packaged: 2018-08-07 10:43:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 5,814
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7711879
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/The_Rifleman/pseuds/The_Rifleman
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Who created The Mirror of Erised? Where did it come from? What is its purpose? The story behind the mirror is endless.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

A very long, long time ago - long enough, even, to be called ancient today - Desire of the Endless was feeling bored. The genderless, beautiful being with short, dark hair and smooth, alabaster skin wandered listlessly through the halls of its palace that was shaped like itself until it entered a large room that contained nothing in it but seven frames that hung along one wall. In each frame there was something different: a book, a helmet, an ankh, a heart, a sword, a colorful swirl, and finally a ring with a sharp, barbed hook on it.

Desire took the ring from out of the frame and than in a silky, soft voice said, "Sister, dear, I stand in my gallery and I hold your sigil, will you talk with me?"

Immediately Desire found itself transported to the realm of Despair; a dark and misty void that contained only rats, and rows and rows of floating windows of all shapes and sizes. At least, in this place they were windows, on the other side of each of them they were mirrors. Mirrors that hung in other worlds, in people's homes, offices, and anywhere else imaginable. Sometimes people would look into a random mirror somewhere and see Despair looking back at them through one of these windows. Desire, however, could not currently see its sister, Despair, anywhere. Not in all the mist. So it began to walk and, presently, it came upon a large, pale, naked woman sitting cross legged on the ground.

"There you are, sister," said Desire.

The woman, Despair, looked up at Desire, revealing a sallow, puffy, white face that was slick and greasy with tears. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, sunken into her face and surrounded with dark circles. Her black, dirty, long hair was twisted and knotted and heaped on top of her head like an old dead tree.

"What do you want?" Despair croaked.

"To play," said Desire, and its golden eyes glittered with mischief.

"I'm in no mood," Despair said with a sigh. She looked back down at her hands, one of which had a smaller version of the hooked ring on one finger. With it she began to pick at the skin on her kneecap until it started to bleed a little.

"But I have a great idea," said Desire. "You'll like this, I swear."

Still focused on her macabre task, Despair simply said, "What is it?"

"Well, it's more of a germ of an idea," said Desire, mindlessly tapping its fingertips together and staring off into space. "I want to create something. Something that will cause whoever looks at it to see their hearts deepest desire."

"That's what imagination is for," said Despair. "Talk to our brother, Dream."

"No, said Desire. "This would go far beyond imagination. This would be real, or at least, it would seem as real as possible. That's what makes it fun. The person would see their heart's desire right in front of them, but never be able to actually touch it."

"It would be like a hallucination, then," said Despair. "Talk to our sister, Delirium."

"I'm talking to you!" shouted Desire, harshly.

Despair looked up at her sister/brother in surprise. "What do you want from me?" she asked, glumly.

Desire walked over to one of the floating windows and ran its hand along the frame. "I think I want one of your mirrors," it said.

"Ah," said Despair in realization. "You want the object to be a mirror. A mirror that shows whoever looks into it their heart's desire. A reflection of their inner self, almost. Or a perverse parody of the concept at least. Clever."

"Isn't it?" said Desire with glee.

"But what's in it for me?" asked Despair.

"Don't be a dolt," retorted Desire. "Surly even you can see the potential here. Once the viewer gets a good look at their desire made real they won't be able to look at anything else ever again. They'll spend every waking minute staring at the mirror wanting and wanting and realizing that what they see will never be theirs, and ultimately...,"

"They'll fall into despair," said Despair.

"It's mutually beneficial," said Desire. "And funny too."

Despair thought about it for only a moment before finally saying, "Okay, you can use one of my mirrors."

She pointed with a chubby, pale finger at a large rectangular window with a golden frame around it that was off to one side of the others.

"That one hasn't been used in ages," she said. "Take that one."

Desire went over to the window and grabbed the sides firmly with its two beautiful hands. Then, with only a slight bit of effort, it spun the window around so that the mirror side was facing it. For a few minutes Desire just stood there admiring its own reflection. It liked how the gold of its eyes matched the gold frame of the mirror. Finally, Desire shook its head clear and began to focus back on the task at hand. Despair watched on as Desire took one of its slender fingers and wrote on the top of the frame the word ERISED. And then, STRA EHRU OYT UBE CAFRU OYT ON WOHSI.

"Subtle," said Despair, sarcastically. "You don't think people will see that and take it as a warning?"

"People can be incredibly stupid," said Desire, smiling. "And for that they deserve everything they get." Then it leaned forward and kissed the surface of the mirror with its perfect lips, which sent a ripple through the reflective surface like a leaf falling on the top of a still pond.

"Done," Desire said, proudly, as it stood back and surveyed its handy work.

"Now what?" asked Despair.

"Now I take it and leave it somewhere on Earth. Somewhere where the curious will find it easily," said Desire.

"Most people aren't going to be too trusting of a magic mirror," said Despair.

"Then I'll put it amongst people who will be," Desire said in annoyance. "The wizarding folk. They wouldn't think twice about a magic mirror. Yes, that's what I'll do."

"Good luck," said Despair, solemnly.

Desire giggled and grabbed the mirror, then both vanished from Despair's realm, heading for parts unknown.


	2. Chapter 2

In the small wizarding village of Appleby, located in North Lincolnshire, England, there lived a little old wizard by the name of Absolon Tristram. Absolon was a junk peddler by trade, who scoured the countryside looking for anything he could find, refurbish, and sell at a profit, whether it be a magical object or not. In most cases he would enchant any ordinary items he found in some way before selling them to other wizards and witches, but he also sold unenchanted items to muggles as well, and therefore was well liked by pretty much everyone in the village and its surrounding areas. 

One day, while riding over a hill in his wooden cart full of old odds and ends, his mule, Bertrand, pulling him along at a steady pace, Absolon saw something glinting in the valley down below. He steered toward the object and as he approached it he saw that it was a full length mirror with an ornate, golden frame. The frame looked worn and tarnished and the glass was all dusty and blurry, as if the mirror had been sitting out in the valley for some time now, exposed to the elements. Absolon gave it a once over and decided that after a good polishing it would look as good as new, so he hopped down from his cart and lifted the mirror into the back. He was surprised at how light it was considering it was made of gold. He just shrugged and climbed back up to the drivers seat and urged Bertrand onward. As he rode home he smiled a big smile at the wonderful new acquisition he'd made. It would certainly fetch a good price soon enough.

About one hour later, Absolon and Bertrand pulled up to the small cottage with the hay roof that they called home. Absolon dismounted the cart and began to unload his day's haul, which only consisted of the mirror, a couple crates full of empty, glass, milk bottles, and a few broken garden tools, and bring them into his house. He brought the mirror in last. As he picked it up to carry it in, he looked into the dust covered glass and for a moment he thought he saw something odd about the hazy reflection looking back at him. He just shrugged the eerie feeling off, though, and carried the mirror inside. He placed it in one corner of his small living room and then went about getting things ready for the evening. First he went out and unhitched Bertrand from the cart and put him safely away in the barn next to the house and gave him some hay and water for dinner, then he went to the well out back and fetched a pale of water to use to make soup for his own dinner. After he had filled a large cauldron on the stove with the water, he pulled his wand out from the pocket of the old, tattered robe he wore and, using magic, he made a knife on a nearby counter start chopping some vegetables which had levitated out of a cupboard. As the knife cut, the pieces of food glided smoothly through the air and into the cauldron. Then Absolon pointed his wand at the wood in the stove and said, "Incendio!" and a fire started beneath the large cauldron.

While the soup began to cook, Absolon went and sat down in his favorite old chair in the living room and took his pointy shoes off revealing holey, stripped socks. He sighed comfortably as he sat back and relaxed while the stove heated his dinner and the cottage all at the same time. It wasn't anything spectacular, but it was a good life, he thought. Absently, Absolon looked over to the new mirror. There was something very unique about it, but Absolon couldn't quite put his finger on what that was. Something about it made you look at it, drew you to it. Sure enough, Absolon got up right then and walked over to it. Using the sleeve of his robe he began to wipe at the surface of the mirror's foggy glass. Once there was a small, clean spot showing, Absolon looked into the mirror expecting to see his own reflection, but he was astonished to instead see the face of a young woman.

"Aislin?" he said, in the quietest, saddest voice you can imagine.

The woman in the mirror didn't move or speak, but Absolon would know her anywhere. Aislin was a girl he had known when he was younger, before he lived alone, before he became a junk man, back when he was a promising student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. He and Aislin had dated from their second year there, right up until their final seventh year, but right before graduation, when Absolon told her that he wanted to marry her, move to the countryside, and work in his father's hat shop, Aislin informed him that she intended to do no such thing. She wanted to go work for the Ministry of Magic and stay near her family in London. She told him that her career came first and she had no plans to get married so young. They had had a huge fight about it, at the end of which, Absolon had finally decided to compromise and move with Aislin to London. That's when she informed him that he just wasn't part of the picture that she had envisioned for her own future. She broke up with him and they each went their separate ways. She did join the Ministry of Magic as a low level bookkeeper and only one year after that married an auror who also worked there. She quickly forgot all about Absolon and their relationship together, but he never forgot her. Absolon was not someone who fell in love easily, and after Aislin, the one person he felt he could truly give himself to and who would never betray him, did, he never opened up to another human being again, not in that way. But now here she was again, right in front of him, her brown eyes shone the way they always did and her young face looked just as it had the last time he saw her. She looked so real he thought he could reach out and touch her, but when he actually tried to, all he felt was the flat, cold glass of the mirror.

Reality came flooding back to him quickly and he realized this mirror was a magical mirror. He just wasn't sure what the trick was exactly. Was he seeing Aislin through another mirror on her end? If so, why wasn't she doing anything like combing her hair, or admiring her reflection? She seemed to be looking at him, but if she could see him, why wasn't she waving, or smiling, or doing something to show she could? Quickly Absolon grabbed an old rag from the kitchen and began to clean off the rest of the mirror's surface. Sure enough, as soon as he'd finished, Aislin's whole figure was standing there in the full length mirror. Absolon walked around the mirror several times to make sure it really was just a flat mirror, because the space behind Aislin in the glass looked like a whole other room than the one he was standing in. There was nothing behind the mirror, but maybe, Absolon thought, there might be something written on the frame, so he began to polish that. Eventually he could make out the words ERISED STRA EHRU OYT UBE CAFRU OYT ON WOHSI.

"Must be Latin," he said to himself.

On the other side of the mirror, in Despair's dimension, where it was a window, her and her twin watched the old wizard with relish. Desire even giggled.

"Well, I'll be hornswoggled," Absolon said, finally. He just couldn't figure out what the mirror was about, or why it was showing him Aislin of all people, or why she didn't do anything but stand there and stare, but he decided he didn't care. At least he was able to see her again after all these years. He pulled the mirror over to his chair so it was facing him and then he sat down. He sat there and stared at his long lost love for twenty minutes straight until the sound of the water boiling over in the cauldron snapped him out of his nostalgic stupor. He ran into the kitchen and waved his wand to extinguish the flames. Then he scooped some vegetable soup into a small wooden bowl, grabbed a spoon, and took it back into the living room so he could eat it in his chair where he would still be able to watch Aislin. An hour later his empty bowl sat on the table next to him while he continued to sit and watch his beautiful Aislin. Though she never left the glass or made any grand gestures, she did occasionally blink, or twitch her fingers, and for one moment Absolon thought he almost saw her smile. It didn't matter what she did, though. He hung on every blink. Eventually the sun outside began to set and Bertrand's head suddenly appeared through an open window in the living room, looking in to see why his master hadn't come to put his blanket on him. Absolon didn't notice him there. He was too entranced by the mirror, so eventually the mule just turned around, sadly, and went back to the barn.

The next morning Absolon awoke in his chair. He looked around the empty living room. He looked at the bowl still sitting next to him, at the open window where a bird had perched upon the sill and was singing, and then at the mirror.

"Oh, thank goodness, I thought it had been a dream," Absolon said to himself.

He sat up quickly and stared into the mirror. Aislin stared back.

"You're still there," he said to the image. "I was afraid I'd lose you again."

There was no response, just a quiet look that he could read anything he wanted into.

"Why did you leave me?" Absolon asked with pain in his voice. It was more to himself than to the image in the mirror.

Aislin gave no response anyway.

"You're sorry, aren't you?" said Absolon. "I forgive you."

Two weeks later and Absolon still sat in his chair. His usually trim beard was beginning to grow out of control and he was developing bed sores on his thighs from sitting in his chair for so many hours a day. But still he sat there and stared at Aislin staring back. He hadn't gone out to collect or sell any junk since the day he found the mirror. In fact, the only reason he even left his chair anymore at all was to use the bathroom or feed Bertrand. He used his wand to do everything else, like levitate things to him, including food, although he really didn't eat that much these days anyway. He was too sad to have an appetite, because as nice as being able to see Aislin everyday was, there were many times when reality would come flooding back and Absolon would realize that all he was looking at was an illusion. At those times he would begin to cry uncontrollably.

To cheer himself up after these horrible times, Absolon would need only to look into the mirror again. Sometimes he would sit for hours, unblinking, just staring at her and thinking about what was and what could have been. Aislin's image seemed to indulge him in whatever it was he was thinking. Sometimes he'd begin to slip into a comfortable little hallucination brought on by a mix of euphoria and hunger. In these delusions it would be as if he and Aislin had actually married and had had several children the way Absolon had always wanted. They all lived together in his cottage and the children would laugh as they rode Bertrand around the yard.

"Bertrand!"

Absolon snapped out of his delirium when he realized he'd forgotten to feed his mule today. He ran outside to the barn, the foreign sunlight stinging his eyes. As soon as he entered, he saw something that made him stop in his tracks. Bertrand lay there in the hay, dead. His skin was rotting and melting away. Absolon could see the bones showing through, as flies and maggots ate away at the rancid carcass. Absolon covered his mouth in horror and also because of the smell. Then he backed out of the barn.

"How long has it been since I fed him?" he asked himself out loud. He was trying to get his thoughts together, but he just couldn't remember. He ran inside the house to check his wizard clock, which not only kept track of hours and minutes but also of days and months.

"It hasn't been a month, has it?" Absolon said when he saw the clock. He began to stroke his bushy beard with worry. Suddenly he began to feel disoriented and hungry. Sweat beaded at his temples.

"I haven't been away from the house in a month. Why hasn't anyone come to see if I'm okay?" he said.

Absolon considered himself to be a popular man. After all, he was well liked by all the people in the village and its surrounding areas that he sold his wares to, but as he contemplated the question he had just asked himself, he realized the truth.

"No one cares," he said, sadly. "No one really cares about an old junk man."

He staggered over to his chair and sat down. He laid his head back and closed his eyes, but all he could picture was his mule's corpse. All he could think about was Bertrand, his one and only friend. He began to sob. Deeply and violently.

From their vantage point on the other side of the mirror, Despair and Desire watched him cry with satisfaction. Desire put its hand on its sisters clammy shoulder and squeezed. Despair was enjoying Absolon's pain like a fine wine. Desire glanced down at its sister and smiled, then turned its golden eyes back to the broken wizard.

Absolon suddenly stopped crying and looked up and into the mirror. Aislin was still there. Beautiful Aislin. He still had her. Bertrand left his thoughts as Aislin slowly filled them up. Absolon closed his eyes again and slipped back into the world where they were together, where fish flew through the sky and the grass was the color of sapphires. His stomach began to growl, but rather than eat, Absolon fell asleep instead. When he did, he dreamed only of Aislin.

He awoke several days later still in his chair. His hair was dirty, the table at his side was loaded with dirty, moldy dishes and his finger nails were so long he could barely hold his wand properly. He looked down at his bare chest. He had forgotten to get dressed again after taking off the sweat stained robe he'd been wearing for weeks. His stomach looked bloated and his ribs showed through his skin. For a second it almost reminded him of something, but then he forgot. He tried not to look at the mirror, because he knew if he did he'd forget to eat again, so he closed his eyes and reached for his wand. He pointed it towards the window and tried to will some vegetables out of the garden and into the house, but no matter what spell he used, nothing happened. He had no more will.

"Blast it," he said. He tried to stand up to go into the kitchen and check the pantry, but his legs were too weak and covered in sores. It hurt to move. Absolon sighed and laid back in his chair. Oh well, he thought, might as well give in. He looked at the mirror, at Aislin, and all his pain went away. He breathed in a deep breath and then exhaled. For the last time.

Absolon suddenly felt no pain, no longing, no hunger, nothing at all; just sort of fuzzy.

He instinctively looked at the mirror, and for the first time since he had owned it, he saw only his own reflection in it. He no longer looked emaciated and unkempt, he looked how he always thought he did, like a lovable old junk man.

Suddenly from behind the mirror stepped a beautiful young woman wearing a cloak as black as night. She had the hood up, but Absolon could still see some of her long, raven hair underneath as it framed her impossibly pale, round face. Her eyes were deep and dark, as were her lips, and around one eye was drawn a swirly black design that looked like something Absolon had seen as a student at Hogwarts in an old book about Egyptian mythology.

"Oh dear," said Absolon, as he realized who this woman was.

"I know," said Death.

"I wasted it, didn't I? I wasted it all," said Absolon.

"Don't blame yourself," said Death, in a comforting tone.

"Can't I have another chance?" pleaded Absolon. "Can't I give it another go?"

"Not this life," said Death. "Not in this world." She held out her hand.

"I wanted her back so much," said Absolon, about to cry.

"I know," said Death, "But it does not do to dwell on dreams and forget to live."

"I'm afraid," said Absolon. He would not leave his chair.

"It's really okay," said Death, in a kind manner. "Someone's waiting for you on the other side."

"Aislin?" asked Absolon, hopefully.

"No, I was referring to Bertrand, your mule," said Death. "Aislin is still alive and well. Living happily with her husband and children."

Absolon sat for a full minute, thinking over whatever it is he had to think about at this point.

"Alright," he said, and took Death's hand.

She helped him up out of the chair and led him away from the mirror and his cottage and the land of the living.


	3. Chapter 3

Eventually someone did come to Absolon's cottage to check on things and they found his dead body still sitting in his chair looking at the mirror. They also found Bertrand's body mouldering away in the barn. The villagers decided that since the cottage had been so tainted by death, the best thing to do would just be to burn it and the barn down, so that's what they did. But not before they had ransacked the place and taken whatever they liked. Miss Pidgemoker, the town drunk, saw the mirror first. When she looked into it she saw herself as she once was, young and desirable. She quickly grabbed the mirror and made her way silently out of the house before anyone else noticed. Six months later, she too was found dead. Wasted away. No one particularly cared.

Decades passed, and the mirror traveled from one owner to another doing exactly the same thing it had done to poor Absolon and Miss Pidgemoker, doing exactly what it was made to do; ruin lives. Then finally, one day, Death got fed up and she went to visit The Dreaming, the realm of her brother, Dream. She stormed right into the throne room of Dream's mighty castle where she found him sitting on his dream throne, contemplating.

"Have you seen what they're doing?" she demanded of him.

"Who?" asked Dream, looking at his sister with eyes as black as the cloak he was wearing or the hair on his head, which all stood in sharp contrast to his skin, which was as white as Death's.

"Our siblings," said Death, knowing full well he knew who she meant. "With their stupid mirror."

"Of course," said Dream.

"You have?" asked Death.

"Those who fall prey to The Mirror of Erised need to sleep as much as anyone else, do they not? When they dream, they dream only of that which they see in the mirror during their waking life," said Dream.

"This needs to be stopped," Death said, firmly. "This is unnecessarily cruel. People waste away in front of that thing."

"And when they do they become your priority, yes?" said Dream. "So what difference is it in the end?"

"Life was not meant to be wasted pining away for things you can't have," said Death.

"It is not our business to meddle in the affairs of our siblings, nor those of mortals," said Dream.

"Convenient for you to say that, isn't it?" Death said, bitterly.

Dream ignored her inference.

"If only he were here. He'd help me destroy this thing," said Death.

Dream knew she was talking about their brother, Destruction.

"Perhaps you can enlist one of our other siblings in your crusade," he said.

"I've tried," said Death. "Believe me, you were the last one I wanted to come to for help. Delirium is basically in on this with Despair and Desire, since she's reaping benefits too. If victims of the mirror don't fall into complete despair, they just go crazy instead. And you know Destiny, he says that if it is someone's fate to fall victim to the mirror than that is how it must be."

"Well, I am sorry," said Dream, although he really didn't seem so.

Death looked at her brother, searching for signs of mercy or generosity and was not surprised when she didn't find either. She scowled, turned around, and began to leave the enormous room.

"Of course. Why should you help me. You know nothing of suffering," she called back, and then she was gone.


	4. Chapter 4

The year was 1991 and The Mirror of Erised, as it had come to be known, had worked its way through hundreds of owners, witches, wizards, and muggles alike, almost all of whom had either wasted away in despair, or else gone completely mad with delirium. There was a select few who were able to resist the mirror's terrible power, but even they were unable to ultimately destroy it, for only Desire of the Endless, who had created it, could do that. The best anyone could hope to do to keep the mirror from wreaking havoc was to hide it away, but that was always only a temporary solution. Someone always found it.

Currently, though, it was being hidden at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry under the guard of the school's headmaster, Albus Dumbledore. Dumbledore was one of the most powerful wizards in the world and so he was very easily able to avoid the intoxicating allure of the mirror, which he had locked safely away in his office until he could come up with a more permanent solution. A couple of students had already stumbled upon the mirror in its original hiding place, an empty classroom, and it had had to be moved several times to places throughout the castle until finally Dumbledore realized the only truly safe place for it was with him.

As intelligent and resourceful as he was, Dumbledore still could not think of a way to get rid of the infernal thing once and for all, and so he paced the floor of his office each night, trying to come up with a solution. Minerva McGonagall, one of his teachers, had suggested that he turn the mirror over to the Ministry of Magic, so they could keep it in their Department of Mysteries. Dumbledore had shot down that idea quickly. He knew the ministry was full of ladder climbing bureaucrats who couldn't be trusted with the mirror anymore than a child could. No, for safety's sake the mirror needed to be taken out of the world for good. But how? Dumbledore frowned as he looked out of his office window and down at the school grounds below. It was a terrible burden to have to guard this mirror and the Philosopher's Stone both at the same time, but he knew that's what came with being the most powerful wizard in the world. He sighed a deep sigh and then went into his private chambers just off his office and climbed into his large, comfy bed. He sighed yet again and then said to himself, "Maybe something will come to me," before blowing out the candle on the nightstand next to him and drifting off to sleep.

Immediately Dumbledore found himself in a misty void. He felt solid ground beneath his feet, but he could not see it. He couldn't see anything but mist and darkness. Then a man came out of the darkness like he was made of it. His pale face was the only thing about him that wasn't pitch black. Most people would have probably found this person frightening, but Dumbledore greeted the man calmly.

"You are well met, dark stranger," said Dumbledore

"And you, Albus Dumbledore" said Dream.

"You know me?" asked Dumbledore.

"I know of you," said Dream. "I also know of the burden you bear."

"The Philosopher's Stone?" asked Dumbledore.

"The Mirror of Erised," said Dream.

"Ah yes," nodded Dumbledore. "Have you come to give me advice?"

"A solution," said Dream, coolly. "Give it to me."

"To you," asked Dumbledore in surprise. "Why?"

"It was made by one of my kind. Only we can handle it properly. It does not belong in the waking world where its lies pollute the fragile minds of my dreamers."

Dumbledore looked at this man, this being, and instinctively knew who he was, and then who had made the mirror, and then what the mirror's true purpose was. Realizations began to sprout in his mind like a spreading fungus, planted, no doubt, by Dream himself.

"Yes, yes, I know you are right," said Dumbledore, "But before I give it to you there is one more thing I must do with it. I believe I have just figured out how I can finally use it for a good purpose and relieve both of my burdens at once."

Dream looked skeptical at first, but he knew what was going through the old wizards mind. He was in his mind. He actually began to smile.

"Clever old man," he said. "Do what you must, but when you are done with it, return here and let me know."

"Where is here?" asked Dumbledore.

"The land of nod," said Dream.

Dumbledore suddenly woke up and it was morning. The sunlight streamed in through his bedroom windows. He sat up quickly and then hopped out of bed like a child on Christmas morning. He even did a little jump and kicked his heels. Then he grabbed his old arthritic hip and moaned with regret.

"Lots to be done," he said to himself with a twinkle in his eye. "Don't go crippling yourself, old boy."

Sometime later, Dream of the Endless sat again upon his throne in his large palace in The Dreaming. His sister, Death, once again entered the throne room and approached her brother. Nowadays she dressed in a black halter top and leather pants and wore a silver ankh around her neck.

"Desire is furious," she said with a smile.

"I don't doubt it," said Dream, evenly.

"So what changed your mind after all this time?" asked Death.

"Well, it's like you said so long ago, I didn't know what it was like to suffer. Now I do. Spending decades imprisoned in a magical cage, being able to see the world go on around me and not be a part of it... No one should have to sit and stare at the thing they want most and can't have."

Death laughed.

"Welcome to the world," she said to her brother. "So, what have you done with the mirror anyway?"

"It's being handled by someone who is far better at dealing with magical objects than even the greatest of wizards. A top man in his field," answered Dream.

"Who?" asked Death.

Her brother raised an eyebrow. "A top man," he said.

Far away from the palace, in the basement of a large, spooky house next to a cemetery, known to some as The House of Mystery, the house's caretaker, Cain, pushed the mirror, which was now covered with a drop cloth and resting on a metal dolly, down a long corridor filled with hundreds of other bits of junk and harmless looking items. Eventually he found the row he was looking for, turned, and pushed the mirror down it. And it was there, among so many other cursed and haunted bric-a-brac, that The Mirror of Erised finally found it's home. A home where it would no longer hurt or ensnare anyone anymore.

The End


End file.
